the birth of modern chemistry and medicine in the dutch...

The Birth of Modern Chemistry and Medicine in the Dutch Golden Age

2

The path to modern medicine and contemporary chemistry is a scandalous saga of

ancient philosophy, occultism, and the brave pursuit of empirical investigation. From the

mysterious beginnings of alchemy in Ancient Greece to the development of chemical

quantum mechanic theory in the early twentieth century, the history of science unfolds

before our eyes.1 The Enlightenment stands at the climax of this incredible scientific

narrative, as the catalyst that finally allowed the weak inception of empirical science to

break free of hermetic alchemy and to blossom into the full-fledged academic fields of

chemistry and medicine. Thus, the pragmatic and rational experimental studies of the

modern-day were born from the recondite chicanery of pre-Enlightenment alchemy.

This revolutionary metamorphosis of scientific principles is microcosmically

illustrated through a close analysis of Dutch art throughout the seventeenth century. The

development of trust in scientific principle and the genesis of contemporary axioms in the

fields of chemistry and medicine may be delineated by three exemplary works of the

Dutch Golden Age: Jan Steen’s (1626-1679) The Lovesick Maiden (Fig. 1), Rembrandt

van Rijn’s (1606-1669) The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp (Fig. 2), and Cornelis

Bega’s (1631-1664) The Alchemist (Fig. 3). Steen’s 1660 genre painting The Lovesick

Maiden, humorously, yet insightfully, demonstrates the origins of objective diagnosis.

The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, dated 1632, is Rembrandt’s paean to the

development of Enlightenment principles and medical education, while Bega’s 1663

work The Alchemist provides the viewer with an honest portrayal of the heroic

empiricism that transformed alchemy into chemistry.

In order to truly appreciate the magnitude of these changes in chemistry and

medicine one must first understand the cultural and societal atmospheres in which these

1. Aaron J Ihde, The Development of Modern Chemistry (New York: Harper & Row, 1970): 11.

3

changes took place. The Dutch Republic of the Dutch Golden Age was already curiously

modern; characterized by a federalized state, a thriving economy, successful

urbanization, and an affluence of business opportunities, the Dutch Republic led the

European continent toward Enlightenment-thinking.2 The Dutch maintained a tolerant

religious atmosphere, allowing urban life to blossom and create a melting pot of people

with an influx of cultured citizens and businessmen, each coming with an individual

profusion of capital and knowledge.3 The metropolitan and worldly culture of the Dutch

Republic in the seventeenth century paved the way for the Scientific Revolution and the

Enlightenment. Without a climate of acceptance, culture, increased literacy, and a

booming economy it would have been exponentially more difficult for chemistry and

medicine to shed the clinging remnants of esoteric and abstruse alchemy.

Though the Dutch Republic of the seventeenth century may have provided the

perfect environment for Enlightenment thinking to develop, there still existed a certain

level of quackery in medicine and prestidigitation, or magic, in alchemy. Alchemists

pursued the philosopher’s stone in the hopes of fulfilling get-rich-quick schemes and

doctors were often uneducated fools, merely taking advantage of society’s growing faith

in scientific principle in order to profit themselves. This pseudo-science was often

illustrated through humorously satiric paintings, such as Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden.

Jan Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden and Satirical Representations of Diagnostic Tools

Jan Steen, a genre-painter of the Dutch Golden Age, was a master of satire and

narrative. His oeuvre may be typified by moralistic, allegorical, and farcical examinations

of various subjects; indeed, Steen’s works present themselves as individual theatrical

2. Anne Goldgar, Tulipmania, (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2007): 7-9.

3. Ibid., 8-9.

4

productions, each telling a humorous narrative with an accompanying moral.4 In a

number of his works Steen takes on the lovesick maiden, or quack-doctor genre. While

lovesickness is a rather romanticized concept today, it was considered a sobering physical

condition in Steen’s time.5 Lovesickness could contaminate the entire circulatory system,

causing the maiden’s blood to congeal and darken, eventually leading to her death.6 The

very subject of the lovesick maiden is thus illustrative of the sometimes uninformed,

though well-intended, beginnings of medicine. Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden (Fig. 1),

then, is a comical depiction of the inception of modern medicine and the origins of

diagnostic methods. In addition, the work illustrates the dramatically changing role of the

public’s trust in scientific and medical principles.

The Lovesick Maiden, like a thespian experience, opens its scene in a large and

dimly lit room; the door to the room is flung open and natural light is allowed to trickle in

from outside, though the drab walls and dark bed curtains contrast glaringly with the

cheerful summer day that may be glimpsed through the doorway. The maiden sits, the

center of attention, at the heart of the room. Her morning coat thrown open, her dress

creased and uncared for as she props her leg on a foot warmer, her curly, untamed hair

escaping her bonnet, the maiden rests her tired head in her hand. A look of exasperation

and consternation flits across her flushed face as she dangles her right hand out for the

doctor. The jovial and comical looking doctor leans over behind the maiden’s chair,

4. H. Perry Chapman, “Jan Steen’s Household Revisited,” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly for the History

of Art 20, No. 2/3 (2014): 190.

5. Tammy P. Sritecha, “Jan Steen and the Medical Treatment of Lovesick Maidens: An Analysis of the

Doctor’s Visit Paintings,” (M.A. diss., The George Washington University, 2006): 4.

6. Linda P. Austern, “ ‘For, Love’s a Good Musician’ : Performance, Audition, and Erotic Disorders in

Early Modern Europe,” The Musical Quarterly 82, No. 3/4 (1998): 617.

5

rather vacuously taking her pulse, as a curious older woman looks on, anxiously

searching the doctor’s face for a sign of intelligence. Various romantic items scattered

throughout the room intimate the cause of the young maiden’s sickness. A loyal dog lies

at the maiden’s feet, next to her foot warmer, a urine pot and brazier sit to the side,

forgotten by the doctor, and noble Cupid stands over the doorway, aiming his arrow of

love toward the maiden. Rather less poetically, two dogs copulate just outside the

doorway, and it becomes apparent to the audience, if not the inept doctor, that the poor

girl is lovesick.

Cupid, typically associated with love, is perhaps the clearest indication of the

young maiden’s lovesickness, as his arrow is aimed toward her in the same way a hunter

aims his weapon at his prey. Additionally, an emblem (Fig. 4) by Otto van Veen (1556-

1629) reinforces the idea of unrequited love or lovesickness. In the emblem cupid sits in a

chair, his head resting in his hand, as he gazes at a picture of his beloved. The emblem

depicts the inability of mere thoughts or images to fill the void of the physical presence of

the missing loved one.7 Veen’s Cupid is very physically reminiscent of Steen’s maiden,

as they both sit listlessly, their heads resting in their hands; as Cupid looks longingly at a

picture of his beloved, lost in thought, so the maiden stares off into the distance, lost in

memories and daydreams. This emblematic reference would have been well understood

by a seventeenth-century Dutch audience. The various dogs throughout the work assert

an animalistic, even carnal, atmosphere pervading the room, suggesting an erotic

7. Laurinda S. Dixon, Perilous Chastity: Women and Illness in Pre-Enlightenment Art and Medicine,

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995): 84-85.

6

component to the maiden’s melancholy.8 Foot warmers, in addition, were symbols

commonly associated with love, and even lust; the inclusion of the foot warmer would

have further clarified to the Dutch populace the cause of the maiden’s ailment.9 The

brazier and coals further support the romantic themes throughout the painting, as exterior

heat was frequently applied to women suffering from “uterine furies,” which often

resulted from sexual abstinence.10

Yet, for all these humorous references to the young

maiden’s sexual frustrations and lovesickness, and the doctor’s presumably charlatanic

efforts, there are still legitimate allusions to the burgeoning development of genuine

physicians and medical practice.

The urine pot, for instance, implies uroscopy, or the diagnostic examination of

urine by qualitative analysis. Uroscopy, a predecessor of what today is urinalysis, was

considered an efficient and valid means of diagnosis, and legitimate physicians often

turned to uroscopy when examining young women suffering from unknown ailments.11

Steen’s doctor is also palpating the maiden’s wrist, which surely may be seen as a

reference to legitimate medicine as pulse-taking is an integral practice in modern

medicine. Assessing a patient’s pulse and bloodletting were popular practices at the time,

practices that could be used to make authentic diagnoses; for instance, a strong and

consistent pulse was associated with health and an irregular or weak beat generally



9. Ibid., 23-26


(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995): 104.

11. Ibid., 78-79.

7

indicated sickness.12

Wrist palpation was clearly an accepted, common, and even popular,

method of diagnosis and it reoccurs in a number of Steen’s satiric lovesick maiden

paintings. In the Lovesick Girl (Fig. 5), dated 1660, a hysterically dressed, and obviously

cozening, doctor leans down to take a woman’s pulse. Though many of the same satiric

motifs pervade the Lovesick Girl as may be seen throughout The Lovesick Maiden, for

instance the statue of cupid, the dog, the brazier, and the humorous quack-doctor, it is

apparent that checking the pulse had established itself as a serious and integral part of

medical examinations. Steen’s wildly chaotic and acerbically comical The Doctor’s Visit

(Fig. 6), dated 1660-1665, also incorporates pulse evaluation. In fact, multiple depictions

of pulse taking, which allude to the presumed lovesickness in Steen’s seventeenth-

century paintings, might have actually been misdiagnosed chlorosis, an anemia common

in adolescent girls, which began to be commonly diagnosed in the nineteenth-century.13

It becomes clear that, though there may be dogs copulating in the background,

comical allusions to sexual frustration, and the presence of a rather laughable quack-

doctor, there are still legitimate and realistic representations of genuine medical practice

throughout The Lovesick Maiden. It is heartening to see that, even in a sardonic

illustration of the more obsolete and antiquated aspects of medicine, there is still evidence

of the slowly developing nature of modern science in the pre-Enlightenment period.

Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden sets the stage for the scientific revolution of the

Enlightenment.

Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp and the Medical Profession




(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995): 7.

8

If Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden exemplifies the growing presence of legitimate

physicians’ techniques and the remnants of archaic malpractices, then Rembrandt’s 1632

work The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp (Fig. 2) recognizes the growing power of

informed principles of medical science in the pre-Enlightenment period and the

importance of teaching those principles to a greater audience. The Anatomy Lesson of Dr.

Nicolaes Tulp illustrates the accredited aspects of the developing medical profession and

illuminates the burgeoning faith in science that was slowly evolving throughout the

seventeenth-century. When comparing Steen’s satiric jab at archaic medical practices in

The Lovesick Maiden with Rembrandt’s sincere portrayal of enlightened medical

practices, it becomes clear that there was a great divergence between the legitimate

science of medicine and the cunning craft of medical quackery in the pre-Enlightenment

period.14

The anatomy takes place in a large room, probably an auditorium, with tall

vaulted ceilings and strong columns rising upward in the background. A large tome, most

likely a promptbook for Dr. Tulp, sits open, as if knowledge itself is pouring out of the

text.15

The surgeons are clustered almost claustrophobically around the table, their pale

faces staring intently in various different directions, as their ruffled and starched white

collars contrast strikingly with the dark satin fabric of their jackets. The men seem to be

intently absorbing everything taking place before them as they listen assiduously to Dr.

Tulp. The doctor sits proud and erect in his high chair as he leans over the corpse, his

14. Smith E. Jelliffe, M.D, “The Dutch Physician in New Amsterdam and His Colleagues at Home,” in

Medical Library and Historical Journal Vol. 4, No. 2, ed. Albert Huntington (New York: Association of

Medical Librarians, 1906): 154.

15. William Schupbach, “The Paradox of Rembrandt’s ‘The Anatomy of Dr. Tulp’,” Medical

History Supplement No. 2 (1982): 6.

9

fashionable white collar framing his illustrious and intelligent face as he looks outward at

his colleagues; he seems caught in the midst of a grand gesture, bringing his left hand

upward as if to accentuate a specific anatomical principle. With his right hand Dr. Tulp

displays the flayed inner workings of the corpse’s arm, tugging at muscles as if

instructing a puppet. Yet, for all of Dr. Tulp’s assured professionalism and the intense

inquisitiveness of the assembled men, it is the grotesque corpse that catches and holds the

viewer’s attention. The pallid cadaver lies diagonally on the table, his left arm sliced open

to reveal the internal intricacy of tendons, bones, ligaments, muscles, and vessels. He lies

defenseless and bared to the world, as if sacrificing himself as an offering to scientific

principle. A light from above illuminates the corpse, giving him a sort of glowing anemic

splendor, which in turn lights up the blanched faces of the surrounding surgeons—as if

enlightening them.

The depicted anatomy lesson elucidates a variety of elements of seventeenth-

century medical practices. In fact, anatomies themselves were often used by surgeon’s

guilds to predicate professional legitimacy.16

Anatomies signify the beginnings of a

powerful movement away from antiquated, and often cabalistic, practices. In order to

counter quackery the surgeons’ guilds developed by-laws and dictums that carefully

delineated surgeons’ rights and responsibilities.17

The 1606 Ordinance of Anatomy

explained how anatomical training was to be carried out, which in turn led to the creation

of the position of praelector. The praelector led lessons twice a week in a variety of

16. Julie V Hansen, “Resurrecting Death: Anatomical Art in the Cabinet of Dr. Frederik Ruysch,” The Art

Bulletin 78, no. 4 (1996): 663.

17. Middelkoop, Norbert E, “ ‘Large and Magnificent Paintings, All Pertaining to the Chirurgeon’s Art’

The Art of Collection of the Amsterdam Surgeons’ Guild,” in Rembrandt Under the Scalpel: The Anatomy

Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp Dissected, ed. Norbert Middelkoop et. al, (Amsterdam: Six Art Promotion, bv,

Mauritshuis, The Hague, 1998): 10.

10

fields, for instance osteology and physiology, and instructed public anatomies in the

winter months, as the colder temperatures would allow the corpse to remain usable for

longer.18

Clearly then, in Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, Dr.

Tulp is the appointed praelector training his fellow surgeons and educating, even

entertaining, the Dutch public while performing the anatomy. Anatomies, absurd and

grotesque as they might seem by contemporary standards, were often popular events for

the public to attend. Vast public auditoriums, Theatrum Anatomicum, were built to

accommodate large crowds. Leiden built a Theatrum Anatomicum in 1593, though

Amsterdam would not construct a theatre until 1691, thus illustrating the sometimes

uneven and unequally prioritized nature of scientific development throughout the pre-

Enlightenment period.19

Aside from providing a greater historical understanding of the role of professional

medical practice in the seventeenth century, The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp,

illuminates the growing presence of Enlightenment-type thinking. This presence is

illustrated primarily through symbolism in the corpse. However, before analyzing the

intriguing allusions to Enlightenment-thought, it is worthwhile to understand the

historical role of the painting itself. Rembrandt originally created The Anatomy Lesson of

Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, not as an ode to scientific thought, but rather a commissioned group

portrait. Group portraiture was becoming especially popular among the various guilds

and the civic-guards. As the art market grew quickly and as the Dutch economy boomed

with the blossoming of the Dutch Golden Age, so the successful and powerful men of the

period wanted to immortalize their roles in the Republic’s growth. Aert Pietersz (1550-

18. Ibid., 10.

19. Ibid., 10.

11

1612) provides another example of surgeons’ guilds group portraiture in his 1601-1603

work The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Sebastiaen Egbertsz (Fig. 7). Though Pietersz’s work is

clearly an anatomy, as the pallid and sallow corpse intimates, it is not nearly so inspiring

as The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp. The viewer becomes lost in the sea of

surgeons, and there is a disappointing lack of references to Enlightenment-thinking.

Rembrandt provides his audience with less of a class picture than an intimate look at the

process of a public anatomy in The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp.

Allusions to Enlightenment-style thinking in the painting stem principally from

the cadaver itself, who may actually be identified as the executed convict Aris Kindt.20

The illuminated, even glowing, corpse suggests ideas of knowledge and truth. Light is

often representative of divine truths, and acts almost as a guiding beacon.21

It is easy to

imagine Kindt’s lifeless body as a source of knowledge, of learning, and of

enlightenment. His corpse burns incandescently as a guiding light leading Dr. Tulp and

the assembled surgeons onward toward truer scientific understanding. Aside from the

symbolic associations of light throughout the work, Kindt’s dissected and illustrated

hand, which Dr. Tulp probably specifically instructed Rembrandt to depict, suggests a

number of intellectual and enlightened concepts. The human hand (Fig. 9), in conjunction

with the rational ability to reason, created civilization, raising man to a position of power

over his fellow beasts.22

The hand’s architecture is phenomenally mechanical and

20. Robert C. van de Graaf, M.D., et al., “History of Hand Surgery: The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes

Tulp by Rembrandt (1632): A Comparison of the Painting With a Dissected Left Forearm of a Dutch Male

Cadaver,” The Journal of Hand Surgery 31A no. 6 (2006): 882.

21. Zhenya Gershman, “Turn of the Key,” Arion 21 no. 3 (2014): 83-84.

22. William Schupbach, “The Paradox of Rembrandt’s ‘The Anatomy of Dr. Tulp’,” Medical History

Supplement No. 2 (1982): 17.

12

discriminatingly exact, and classical texts of men like Aristotle, Galen, and Anaxagoras,

which well-educated men such as Dr. Tulp would have read, often suggested that the

hand held a higher function, as the prime instrument to conduct all other instruments.23

Thus it becomes apparent that Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes

Tulp, is a striking elucidation of the role of professional medicine in the seventeenth-

century and of the blossoming presence of Enlightenment thinking and Enlightenment

symbols—symbols which paved the way for the Age of Reason’s scientific revolution in

the eighteenth-century.

Cornelis Bega’s The Alchemist and the Noble Quest for Enlightenment

However, there is perhaps no greater illustration of the transmutation of science as

the metamorphosis of alchemy to chemistry presents. Alchemy was a paradoxical and

dichotomous field of study in its time. The mystical aspects of alchemy that existed

throughout the Middle Ages and, to a much lesser extent throughout the pre-

Enlightenment and Enlightenment periods, forever sullied and bastardized the once noble

academic study of the subject. In the pre-Enlightenment period the empirically scientific

elements of alchemy were gradually discarding the remnants of the obsolete and

cabalistic principles of alchemy from the Dark Ages that remained attached, like leeches,

to scientific progress. Through a painstaking and arduous process chemistry was

gradually allowed to emerge as the proud legacy of empirical alchemical practices. It is

the inception of this proud legacy that Cornelis Bega illustrates in his little-known 1663

work The Alchemist (Fig. 3). Bega provides a strikingly honest and serious rendition of

alchemy by focusing narrowly on his subject and eliminating satirical references.

23. Ibid., 17.

13

Through Bega the alchemist is transformed into a heroic figure in pursuit of the nascent

experimental study of matter.

Bega’s alchemist, in his ragged and threadbare tunic, sits, his black cap pulled low

over his eyes, hunched over his bellows, fanning on the growing flames in the hearth in

an effort to quicken the chemical reactions. He waits patiently as his distilling apparatus

slowly condenses and extracts the unique substance he is tirelessly trying to isolate. The

alchemist is wholly and utterly engrossed in his experiment, an investigation he has

surely rehearsed thoroughly, as he no longer needs to even glance at the experiment

outline tacked on the dank wall of the laboratory. In fact, the alchemist seems to not even

notice the chaotic display of alchemical instruments surrounding him. Earthen pots,

shabby and neglected alchemical tomes, crumpled papers, and broken ceramic-ware lie

haphazardly across the floor, clearly forgotten and pushed aside to allow more room for

the current experiment. A small flask of what is probably mercury and a myriad of

unused jugs, vessels, and tankards sit scattered about the hearth, which occupies a

prominent position in the dank and poorly lit laboratory. There is a sense that the

alchemist is uninterested in, and even incapable of, caring for anything less than his

pursuit of knowledge, as his eyes bore relentlessly into the fire.

Clearly, unlike the majority of seventeenth-century depictions of alchemists,

Bega’s The Alchemist is a realistic representation of the genuinely empirical aspects of

alchemy that were gradually becoming more prevalent in the pre-Enlightenment period.

Perhaps Bega, the son of a goldsmith, was better equipped than other Dutch artists of the

time to appreciate the alchemists’ struggle.24

In fact, it was this quest to fully comprehend

24. Jonathan Lopez, “Master of Transient Matter,” Apollo: The International Magazine for Collectors 175,

no. 599 (2012): 107-109.

14

matter that would help to fuel the Scientific Revolution. Other Dutch Golden Age artists,

such as Adriaen van Ostade (1610-1685), who was also Bega’s mentor and perhaps

introduced Bega to alchemy as a genre-subject, often chose to ignore the developing

legitimacy of inductive and empirical scientific investigation in their paintings. Ostade’s

1661 The Alchemist (Fig. 8), for instance, depicts a comical-looking chemical conjurer in

the greedy pursuit of gold. Ostade incorporates heavily satiric elements by including the

alchemist’s poverty-stricken family in the background, and by widening the scene so that

the alchemist and his pursuit of knowledge are no longer at the center of attention. Bega,

in contrast, chooses to focus narrowly on the alchemist himself, stripping away any

external moralizing or satiric aspects, thus creating a focal point on the alchemist’s heroic

pursuit of enlightened understanding.

Bega presents to his audience a man who has chosen to sequester himself from

society, and has devoted himself to a life of monastic devotion to empirical

experimentation and of academic pursuits. Clearly this isolated and genuine, rather than

satiric, analysis of the alchemist allows one to see the burgeoning strength of genuine and

honest scientific practice that was developing throughout the pre-Enlightenment period,

and which blossomed into modern-day chemistry during the Enlightenment itself.

Furthermore, Bega’s incorporation of scientific motifs and depiction of a realistic

experiment in The Alchemist reinforces the idea that the seventeenth-century Dutch

Republic was cultivating an atmosphere that prepared the way for the Scientific

Revolution of the Enlightenment. For instance, Bega’s alchemist is engaged in an

experiment involving a distilling apparatus (Fig. 10, Fig. 11).25

Distillation was often an

25. Moorehouse, Stephen. “Medieval Distilling-Apparatus of Glass and Pottery.” Medieval Archaeology

(1972): 83.

15

integral part of creating acids, making tinctures, and improving alloys. Developing the

mechanical process of distillation was one of the many truly successful scientific

outgrowths of alchemy. Distillation plays an integral function in modern-day life; for

instance, crude oil becomes useful only through fractional distillation. Though distillation

operates on a grander scale in the contemporary world, the basic process remains true to

original alchemical experimentation. The alchemical and scholastic texts that lie on the

floor are also strong allusions to enlightened thought. Alchemists, much like modern-day

scholars, sought to learn how to control and command the nature of matter through

books.26

It is also noteworthy that the hearth takes a central role in The Alchemist.

Alchemists commonly used fire as a transformative tool applied to substances, mixtures,

and elements; it was not uncommon for alchemists to engage in experiments seeking to

innovatively consume energy more efficiently—an issue modern-day scientists are still

seeking to solve.27

Thus, by incorporating realistic representations of empirical experimentation,

such as the distilling apparatuses, the alchemical texts, and the inclusion of fire, Bega

presents an illustration of the developing faith in scientific practices and provides his

modern-day audience with a window through which they may understand the role of

science in the pre-Enlightenment period. By avoiding moralistic and satirical elements,

such as Ostade includes in his The Alchemist, and by incorporating symbolic references

to the hermit-scholar, such as Dou’s The Hermit, Bega ensures that The Alchemist may be

26. Lawrence M Principe, “Spaces of Wonder and Ruin: Alchemical Laboratories in Early Modern

Painting,” In Art and Alchemy: The Mystery of Transformation, ed. Sven Dupré, et al., (Düsseldorf:

Stiftung Museum Kunstpalast, 2014): 60.

27. Ibid., 61.

16

considered a reliable and accurate depiction of the genesis of contemporary axioms and

mechanical processes in the field of chemistry.

Conclusion

Through a close examination of Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden, Rembrandt’s The

Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, and Bega’s The Alchemist one sees the expanding

degree of faith in scientific principle, the inception of several modern-day medical and

chemical axioms, and, perhaps most clearly, the spark of empirical and experimental

curiosity that initiated the Scientific Revolution of the Age of Reason. Concepts such as

uroscopy and pulse taking, as may be seen in Steen’s The Lovesick Maiden, matured into

the respective contemporary diagnostic practices of urinalysis and cardiac auscultation.

Rembrandt’s The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp, with its many references to

Enlightened-thinking and its descriptive historical account of public anatomies, is clearly

a predecessor to twenty-first century medical schools and modern autopsies. Finally, it is

clear that Bega’s The Alchemist is an illustration of the very genesis of modern chemistry,

the proud and distinguished legacy of empirical alchemy. Though in the twenty-first

century it is easy to laugh mockingly at the bumbling beginnings of modern chemistry

and medicine we must take a cue from Bega, and forgo the derisive laughter for a sense

of gratitude. We owe an undying sense of appreciation to the brave pioneering

physicians, to the adventurous surgeons’ guilds, and to the honorable practical

alchemists, for these were the men who ignited the Scientific Revolution.

17

Figures

Figure 2

Rembrandt van Rijn,

Dutch, 1606-1669. The

Anatomy Lesson of Dr.

Nicolaes Tulp, 1632. Oil

on canvas. 170 x 217

cm. Hague, Mauritshuis.

Figure 1

Jan Steen, Dutch, 1626-

1679. The Lovesick Maiden,

1660. Oil on canvas, 34 x 39

in. (86.4 x 99.1 cm). New

York, The Metropolitan

Museum of Art.

18

Figure 3

Cornelis Bega, Dutch, 1631-1664.

The Alchemist, 1663. Oil on canvas

mounted on panel. 35 x 28.6 cm (13

¾ x 11 ¼ in.). Washington, National

Gallery of Art.

Figure 4

Otto van Veen,

Dutch,1556-1629.

Amorum Emblemata,

1608, 193.

19

Figure 5

Jan Steen, Dutch, 1626-1679.

Lovesick Girl, c. 1660. Oil on canvas,

61 × 52 cm (24 × 20.5 in). Munich,

Alte Pinakothek.

Figure 6

Jan Steen, Dutch, 1626-1679. The

Doctor’s Visit, c. 1660-1665. Oil on

panel, 18 1/8 x 14 1/2 inches (46 x 36.8

cm). Philadelphia, Philadelphia

Museum of Art.

20

Figure 7

Aert Pietersz, Dutch,1550-1612. The Anatomy Lesson of Dr.

Sebastiaen Egbertsz, 1601-1603. Canvas, 147 x 392 cm.

Amsterdam, Historisch Museum.

Figure 8

Adriaen van Ostade, Dutch,

1610-1685. The Alchemist,

1661. Oil on oak. 34 x 45.2

cm. London, The National

Gallery.

21

Figure 9

Flow Chart of Symbolic Importance of the Hand

William Schupbach, The Paradox of Rembrandt’s “The

Anatomy of Dr. Tulp.” 57.

22

Figure 11

Various Distilling Apparatuses

Moorehouse, “Medieval Distilling-

Apparatus of Glass and Pottery,”

83.

Figure 10

Distilling Apparatus

Moorehouse, “Medieval Distilling-

Apparatus of Glass and Pottery,” 88.

23

Bibliography

Austern, Linda Phyllis. “ ‘For, Love’s a Good Musician’ : Performance, Audition, and

Erotic Disorders in Early Modern Europe.” The Musical Quarterly 82, No. 3/4

(1998): 614-653.

Chapman, H. Perry. “Jan Steen’s Household Revisited.” Simiolus: Netherlands Quarterly

for the History of Art 20, No. 2/3 (2014): 183-196.

Dixon, Laurinda S. Perilous Chastity: Women and Illness in Pre-Enlightenment Art and

Medicine. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995.

Gershman, Zhenya. “Turn of the Key.” Arion 21 no. 3 (2014): 79-108.

Goldgar, Anne. Tulipmania. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2007.

Graaf, Robert C. van de, MD, Frank F. A. Ijpma, MD, Marcel F. Meek, MD, PhD, and

Jean-Philippe A. Nicolai, MD, PhD. “History of Hand Surgery: The Anatomy

Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp by Rembrandt (1632): A Comparison of the Painting

With a Dissected Left Forearm of a Dutch Male Cadaver.” The Journal of Hand

Surgery 31A no. 6 (2006): 882-891.

Hansen, Julie V. “Resurrecting Death: Anatomical Art in the Cabinet of Dr. Frederik

Ruysch.” The Art Bulletin 78, no. 4 (1996): 663-679.

Ihde, Aaron J. The Development of Modern Chemistry. New York: Harper & Row, 1970.

Jelliffe, Smith Ely, M.D. “The Dutch Physician in New Amsterdam and His Colleagues

at Home.” In Medical Library and Historical Journal Vol. 4, No. 2, ed. Albert

Huntington, 145-161. New York: Association of Medical Librarians, 1906.

Lopez, Jonathan. “Master of Transient Matter.” Apollo: The International Magazine for

Collectors 175, no. 599 (2012): 107-109.

Middelkoop, Norbert E. “ ‘Large and Magnificent Paintings, All Pertaining to the

Chirurgeon’s Art’ The Art of Collection of the Amsterdam Surgeons’ Guild.” In

Rembrandt Under the Scalpel: The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp

Dissected, ed. Norbert Middelkoop et. al., 9-11. Amsterdam: Six Art Promotion,

bv, Mauritshuis, The Hague, 1998.

Moorehouse, Stephen. “Medieval Distilling-Apparatus of Glass and Pottery.” Medieval

Archaeology (1972): 83-88.

Principe, Lawrence M. “Spaces of Wonder and Ruin: Alchemical Laboratories in Early

24

Modern Painting.” In Art and Alchemy: The Mystery of Transformation, ed. Sven

Dupré, Dedo von Kerssenbrock-Krosigk, and Beat Wismer, 60-70. Düsseldorf:

Stiftung Museum Kunstpalast, 2014.

Schupbach, William. “The Paradox of Rembrandt’s ‘The Anatomy of Dr. Tulp’.”Medical

History Supplement No. 2 (1982): 1-110.

Sritecha, Tammy Padivarada. “Jan Steen and the Medical Treatment of Lovesick

Maidens: An Analysis of the Doctor’s Visit Paintings.” M.A. diss., The George

Washington University, 2006.

1

Research Reflection Essay

My research topic grew and matured principally from my immediate interest in

Cornelis Bega’s little-known work The Alchemist. I was initially intrigued with The

Alchemist simply for its connection to my primary field of study, chemistry. My initial

interest in the painting developed into a sort of fascination, however, as I came to

understand what a unique illustration of science and alchemy in the seventeenth century

The Alchemist represents. Throughout Professor Pollack’s lectures, and several books,

such as Art & Alchemy edited by Jacob Wamberg, seventeenth century Dutch art

consistently portrayed alchemists satirically and caustically. I was stricken by how little

tribute, or respect, Dutch Art seemed to pay to legitimate science and the genuine

beginnings of chemistry—until I discovered The Alchemist. Cornelis Bega’s

representation of alchemy, in stark contrast to almost every other illustration of alchemy

from the same period, seemed to me to be somber, mysterious, humble, and reverent.

Thus, my initial thesis argued that Bega’s The Alchemist was a sincere depiction of an

alchemist in the legitimate pursuit of the study of matter.

My final research topic was an expansion of my initial thesis on The Alchemist. I

wanted to combine my interests in chemistry and modern-day science with seventeenth

century Dutch Art in such a way that would highlight the efforts of the brave pioneering

scientists of the pre-Enlightenment period. I picked three Dutch Golden Age paintings,

each of which represents a specific aspect of science; for instance, The Alchemist

illustrates the beginnings of chemistry, and empirical practice, while The Anatomy Lesson

of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp speaks to the growing trust in scientific principle and secular

medical practice in the pre-Enlightenment period, and finally, The Lovesick Maiden

2

depicts the beginnings of modern diagnostic tools and medical practice. I then argued that

each work could be used to demonstrate the blossoming trust in empirical science and the

beginnings of modern-day laws, theories, and practices within the fields of chemistry and

medicine. I thought my thesis represented an interesting and original combination of

science, history, and art, and provided a more serious, and less sarcastic, approach to

analyzing alchemy and medicine in the pre-Enlightenment period.

Because my approach and thesis were unusual, and because so little research has

been done concerning The Alchemist, which composed an integral part of my argument, I

chose to focus my research around learning as much about the time period as possible,

understanding science in the pre-Enlightenment period, and developing an awareness for

the emblems, symbols, and meanings contained in the paintings I chose. After Shira

Eller, the Art and Design librarian, spoke with my UW class about possible online

databases and library resources available for our use, I decided to search for research

from a multitude of different sources. Primarily, I searched the Gelman catalog to find

books about seventeenth century Dutch society and the history of chemistry, as well as

biographies on artists. I initially skimmed through the books, or found online summaries,

and if I thought the book was pertinent to my research I checked it out. Besides books

checked out from Gelman, Eckles, and the Consortium Loan, I used a number of different

databases, such as JSTOR and EBSCO, to search for articles. Unfortunately, not all of the

articles, journals, and books that I initially found were actually conducive to my overall

project. Although I experienced some discouragement when several of my first sources

were actually less helpful than I had anticipated, I think my overall research process was

very successful. I was able to find a number of very helpful sources, which later became

3

integral supporting evidence for my central argument, by investigating references and

works cited pages from various dissertations that I found. For instance, I was able to find

Laurinda Dixon’s Perilous Chastity: Women and Illness in Pre-Enlightenment Art and

Medicine, which I cited several times, only after I noticed Dixon was referenced in two

different earlier articles I had read. Research became progressively easier as I became

more comfortable with the Gelman website, finding books in Gelman, using the

Consortium Loan, and finding useful subject databases in the Gelman research guides.

I enjoyed researching and writing my essay, and I believe I developed a better

appreciation for art and the connections between superficially disparate fields like

chemistry, art, and history. My research process allowed me to stay focused on my

argument, and helped me to attain a greater understanding of how to construct an

argument and advance it through researched evidence. I was able to compile and bring

together a variety of sources, which I believe strongly support my thesis that the growth

of confidence in scientific research and principle, and the origination of modern-day

maxims and postulates in the fields of chemistry and medicine, can be charted by three

specific paintings of the Dutch Golden Age. Throughout the process, I developed a

genuine empathy for the pre-Enlightenment pioneers of science and medicine, and a

greater appreciation for my own studies in chemistry.

the birth of modern chemistry and medicine in the dutch...

Documents